A wind blew as he walked down the road. His black cloak was tossed about and pulled at him in all directions. The wind blew warm and moist up against his face. The man's clothes tattered from battle and use, provided no protection whatsoever against the strong wind.
His black shirt barely holding onto him as it has been cut and torn by blades of his enemies. The pants ragged and torn up to the knees. Yet he marched forward against the blowing wind. Not knowing the danger that lay ahead.
Enemies hid in the sand around him. They layed in wait to spring their trap upon him. Their clothes filled with sand and their eyes almost blinded by the wind. In a moment the trap they will spring upon the one who they think helpless and tired.
The monsters flew up from the sand with their disfigured faces. The swords they held crude and sharp, but they did not know of the man's keen sense. As the monsters jumped and snarled upon their victim they grew warm and hot. Before they could react pillars of fire engulfed each of them one by one. The fire consumed them as the sand around them began to melt.
The worn man's enemies stand frozen in the sandy glass. The fire they felt burned no more, as their senses faded into black. The man continued to walk on. As the fire in his heart consumes him like no other, his enemies die like any other.
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The Beggining
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